What are you?
O you distant light…
What’s this difference with which you…
Tantalize my sight?
Is it true,
What they say about the might?
That it’s blue.
Blue like indecision peering over a great height?
The sort of hue,
that doesn’t assert right.
Just let’s it hang till true,
releases knuckles painted white.
To give view,
To give way to clearer sight.
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